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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453874">Have A Drink And Bare Your Soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineisa/pseuds/catherineisa'>catherineisa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Blacklist (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Could be considered fluff, Fluff, M/M, heavy metaphor, reddington has some thinking to do</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:00:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineisa/pseuds/catherineisa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's underrated.</p><p>Maybe he does like it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Keen &amp; Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington &amp; Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington/Donald Ressler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Have A Drink And Bare Your Soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalleNess/gifts">FalleNess</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's no easy way to hear that it's your fault that an op has gone wrong. No easy way to listen to your boss's resigned lecture about how you didn't give the operation enough attention, how you screwed the pooch so bad a mass murderer got away and is probably going to be free for a lot longer than anticipated and enact a plan to gas Penn Station.</p><p> </p><p>It's twelve hours later though and Elizabeth has fixed his mistake, thrown the suspect off a building. <s>Not how he would've done it but hey it's her paperwork.</s> and neutralized the device. Reddington is being smug as always and he finds he needs a drink. He informs Cooper he's leaving the Post Office and heads to a bar that's not so close, one that he frequents when cases get tough. Work in general come to think of it.</p><p> </p><p>He orders a nasty little concoction that the barkeep just calls 'Concierge' and seats himself at the back of the bar. Stewing to himself he stirs his drink and chokes it down. He grimaces, he doesn't so much like it as it's something to quickly take any edge off. It punches him in the throat with it's cinnamon kick, very sweet, very tart. It somehow balances itself though. First the tart, and then the subtle sweetness. It's underrated.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he does like it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He takes a long sip and holds it in his mouth for a second leaning his head back a swirling it around before swallowing it. He knows it's the last of the drink and doesn't bother looking up.  It isn't until he hears a coaster being pulled back from the far end of the table that he pulls himself forward and opens his eyes to another drink being set down in front of him. He groans when he sees who it is standing at the edge of the booth. </p><p> </p><p>"I hear you're a regular here." The smug smile doesn't leave his face. He ponders if slapping the man would wipe it off. He thinks that he'd probably get shot doing that and decides against it.</p><p> </p><p>"What about it?"</p><p> </p><p>The man laughs like he's hearing a joke that Ressler can't. Although with him Ressler might be the joke. Reddington sets down a glass of wine on a closer coaster and slides into the booth. </p><p> </p><p>"Funny that. You could have chosen anywhere. You chose here. Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"Is it any of your business?" </p><p>He laughs loudly, clutching his chest as if to hold himself back</p><p> </p><p>"Well. It's my business." </p><p> </p><p>He starts to say 'That's what I just said.' confused, but then it catches up with him and he curses loudly. Several patrons look towards the pair, scandalized even though they're currently in a bar.</p><p> </p><p>"What?" He stares blankly, only partially comprehending what's been said. </p><p> </p><p>Reddington isn't smiling now, but he's still got that jolly 'I'm better than you' aura going on.</p><p>
  <s>Ressler can't help but think it's intoxicating.</s>
</p><p>"I own this bar. Other's like it too. In several different countries. Friends I've made along the way."</p><p> </p><p>Ressler scoffs. "You don't have friends." </p><p> </p><p>Reddington hums thoughtfully. "Maybe so. I certainly have allies, and people who owe me though." He punctuates the owe. As if pointing something out. Whatever it might be is currently unknown though.  </p><p> </p><p>"Hmm. Sure, whatever." There's an off putting tone in Ressler's voice and Reddington sits back huffy. Donald still hasn't touched his drink. He glances around for a moment before wagging his finger twice at Ressler. He turns towards the bar-even though they're the farthest booth- putting his fingers in his mouth and wolf whistling loudly. It's piercing and it gets everyone's attention, more of the patrons complain this time. Ressler can't help but raise his voice, annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>"Shut your traps, assholes. He owns this place." He gives them a meaningful glance, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head. Reddington finds the whole thing amusing. A minute later the barkeep comes over with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. Ressler realizes shortly that he hasn't touched his drink since Red brought it, but by now it's warmed up considerably with the heat in the room, the summer air melting the four ice cubes into the drink. </p><p> </p><p>"How's Emily?" Reddington is looking at the barkeep fondly, Ressler thinks about how he's never heard the man speak, let alone know his name. It bothers him, even though it shouldn't.  </p><p>The barkeep beams at the mention of the name. </p><p>"She's amazing. Just got into Harvard. She's going to study to be a lawyer. I'm so proud."</p><p>Red nods. "And you should be. You raised her well." He raises his nearly empty glass, tipping it toward the man before drinking it. </p><p>The man smiles, before looking at Ressler's drink glasses and back to Red. "I'm sorry for the." He cuts himself and gestures with his head. Tilting it meaningfully toward the glasses. </p><p>"It's fine. I find it quite amusing."</p><p>Ressler doesn't think much of it until the man sets the bottle down and scurries away. </p><p> </p><p>"What was he sorry for?" Ressler leans across the table, as if sharing a secret with the man. <s>More so than he does on a daily basis</s></p><p>Reddington pours himself a glass of the wine bottle on the table before pulling Ressler's second, untouched glass to the center. </p><p> </p><p>"This." Ressler is visibly confused. </p><p> </p><p>"Concierge. Cinnamon, confectioners sugar, and ginger powder. What I'm pretty sure is a shot glass of Everclear. Some other stuff. It's got four ice cubes. Always. Oh come on, you don't see it?"</p><p> </p><p>Ressler shrugs, indifferent. "Nope."</p><p> </p><p>"Concierge of crime?" </p><p>Ressler's eyes widen almost comically and he shoves himself down in the booth. Back touching the chair. </p><p> </p><p>"Shit."</p><p> </p><p>"It's a joke. I mean that literally. Daniel explained it to me once. He said that it was a bit of sugar for my sweetness, a bit of ginger, a healthy dose of cinnamon for my bitter times, Everclear because I'm 'sneaky' " He airquotes that last bit, like he's not. "I mean I get it, but that's the word he used."</p><p> </p><p>"And the ice cubes?" </p><p> </p><p>Reddington stares directly into his eyes before taking a sip of his red wine. Ressler straightens up in his seat.  </p><p> </p><p>"Because I can be cold." Goosebumps fly down his arms and legs, and he swears he feels a real chill.</p><p> </p><p>"Well. It looks like you melted."</p><p> </p><p>Another sip, this time bigger.</p><p> </p><p>"That's because you let me." </p><p> </p><p>Ressler wonders if the statement means anything but shakes it off. </p><p> </p><p>"Why are you here? I mean besides you owning it. You obviously knew I was here somehow."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh Donald. You are so naive. I always know where you are." </p><p> </p><p>The statement should be creepy but he's Reddington so he probably knows where the president likes to dine. </p><p> </p><p>"Okay. So why?"</p><p> </p><p>"I came here to congratulate you. Before you drink yourself into a coma."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay. Why? I pooched it." </p><p> </p><p>He pushes his hand across the table and steals Reddington's drink, taking a long sip of it and putting it back. What can he say? He's curious.</p><p> </p><p>Reddington doesn't respond to it and just continues. "For catching two Blacklisters today."</p><p> </p><p>Donald laughs disdainfully. "Yeah. Right. Now you're just rubbing it in. Wait two?" </p><p>There'd only been one.  </p><p> </p><p>Reddington's laugh is a polar opposite of Ressler's and it echos the smug 'I know something you don't' air about him when he walked in. </p><p> </p><p>He huffs. "Just tell me. You're too dramatic." </p><p> </p><p>"The Concierge originally almost had a firecracker in it, almost took my eye out." </p><p>He tries to imagine Red with an eyepatch but comes up blank. </p><p> </p><p>"Get on with it."</p><p> </p><p>"Impatient. I should make you wait. Or beg for it." Reddington's eyes darken imperceptibly.</p><p> </p><p>Ressler just rolls his eyes. <s>Although he can't admit to himself that his mind wandered.</s></p><p> </p><p>"Elizabeth missed something in the file. Something you didn't. Almost got herself killed. Aram caught a footnote you wrote.</p><p>'possible accomplice?' in the bottom of a page. So congratulations. You can go home and collapse with exhaustion now."</p><p> </p><p>He can't help but admit that he is exhausted. The bags under his eyes look like a week trip to Alaska. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks that maybe he will do that. He doesn't quite feel like leaving though. </p><p> </p><p>"Not really a suggestion. Got to have you sharp as a tack." </p><p> </p><p>He gets up. Putting his hands on the table and leaning into Red's face. </p><p> </p><p>"What? Can't admit to yourself that you care about me?" </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe I do. Or maybe I don't want to get shot because you were too tired to see the gunman."</p><p> </p><p>"Whatever. You care." He titters lightly mostly to himself. He's so wrapped up in it that he almost doesn't hear the soft voice.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I do."</p><p> </p><p>Reddington drinks the rest of his drink and uncorks the bottle. Staring at the wall blankly. </p><p> </p><p>Ressler goes to find a cab. Suddenly not smiling so much anymore.</p><p>He realizes that he didn't pay, turning around he remembers that it's Reddington's bar. </p><p>He'll let him pay, or lose minimal profit margin. </p><p> </p><p>It sinks in in his mind. Reddington cares. </p><p> </p><p>He can't help but feel like it validates those third wheel feelings. Being relegated to the side all that time, even though he was the one to chase Red all that time. </p><p>He looks to his feet and decides he'll take the bus.</p><p> </p>
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